‘This must be some kind of misunderstanding,’ quoth Fuct. ‘Dudes, I think we shouldst not fight them, for that wouldst be bad. Surely if we surrendereth, they might be gracious enough to—’

‘Thou shalt respect mine authori-tah!’ cried the Sheriff as he didst haul out his flyswatter.

And such was the end of Fuct the Politically Correct Faerie. And there was much rejoicing.

‘We have a warrant for the arrest of the Dudes,’ quoth the Sheriff. ‘Thou shalt tell us where Scoot the Ko’An is!’

‘Look thee no further. I am Scoot the Ko’An,’ quoth McBean.

‘No. I am Scoot the Ko’An!’ cried Casey.

‘No, I am Scoot the Ko’An!’ cried Adria.

‘I am Scoot the Ko’An!’ cried the Dudes in unison.

And the Dudes didst roll up the windows and lock the doors, making funny faces at the cops. Then they didst peel out in a cloud of burnt rubber.

‘After them! They art slowly getting away!’ cried the Sheriff, for the Dudes couldst not go faster by not going slower in an 1884 Chevy Shit-Mobile.

And it came to pass that the Sheriff didst have a heart attack from eating too many donuts, and breathed his last.

‘Faster!’ cried Pud.

‘I can’t!’ cried Casey. ‘ ’Tis a Geo!’

And the Goddess didst appear and smack him.

‘ ’Tis not!’ cried Adria.

‘Aye, but ’twas fun to say.’

And the Dudes didst lead the cops and their helicopters on a low-speed chase down the highway until their poor gas mileage didst send them coasting to a halt.

‘Pay The Man!’ cried the cops who didst challenge the Dudes.

And the Dudes didst resist with raised fists, fighting with all their might.

But the Dudes were no match for their rubber bullets and bean-bag launchers. Even the Hyper-X Buttplate was of no avail against them. The cops didst get to have a good old-fashioned beatdown, and bust the Dudes for weapons violations, for there were laws in that land against concealed buttplates and Gothic axes.

And so it came to pass that the Dudes were led into captivity in chains.

Whilst the Dudes were forming one-man conga lines in prison, Scoot the Ko’An was levitating whilst he was meditating, when he didst see disturbing visions of the Dudes, and they were in terrible danger.

For Kungfucius had taught him how to better quantemplate. And Scoot didst fall down.

‘Aye,’ quoth Scoot, ‘for I see in my meditations visions of the Dudes, and they art in great peril. I want to stay and train with thee, but methinks they art in over their heads, for I canst not see Nori. Without her, those dumbasses have not a fucking clue what to do.’

And Scoot didst exit the Spooky Door from the place of light and song and didst set forth once more to help the Dudes. After training under Kungfucius, Scoot felt light as a feather and couldst summon up more power than ever.

And the Ass-Kickin’ Apostle didst say the Runner’s Prayer: ‘Mighty Gods of Hondo, lighteth a fire under mine ass, that I might go faster by not going slower.’

But he didst have to run all the way around the world to get there, and he didst crank up his walkman and run across deserts, and down highways, through forests, over mountains, and across the sea.

Canst Scoot save his friends? Hast his training with Kungfucius been enough? Find out in the next action-packed chapter of the Book of Hondo!